


Fly The Flag

by sphinxofthenile



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxofthenile/pseuds/sphinxofthenile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one man in the crowd who did not kneel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly The Flag

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/4305.html?thread=3543505#t3543505) prompt at [avengerkink](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com). 
> 
> _anyone remember the old guy who stood up to Loki when he was trying to get everyone to submit to him? he looked almost as if he was ready to die instead of being ruled by Loki._
> 
> _guy deserves a medal._
> 
> _preferably one from the Avengers / Captain America_
> 
> A box of cats for **amcw177** for being on my support team.

_“When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life, thou might'st him yet recover” - Michael Drayton_

\---

The flags fly high in the clear sky, the strong wind giving the reporters some trouble with their equipment. Some of them try to get the gathering dignitaries to say a few words, the rest are huddled around the buffet tables depleting the coffee stock. Everything about them screams business as usual, and Steve cannot help the sharp pang of disappointment he feels.

This day is not supposed to be consumed by such trifles. It is, after all, in honor of one man, and one man alone.

"Ready, Captain Rogers?"

"Yes. Yes, indeed." He turns his head, gives Rhodey a nod and a tight-lipped smile. The man wasn't even supposed to be here, but that's Tony Stark for you. For a moment, Steve glances back at the small crowd milling before the dais.

"Don't mind them." Rhodey follows his gaze, and places a hand on his shoulder. "Every show needs some clowns."

But who plays the part, Steve thinks, but he doesn't say anything.

The mayor of Stuttgart takes the podium, tapping the microphone a few times, taking a look at the papers in his hand over his silver-rimmed glasses. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to welcome you today--"

"And so it begins. The fight against yawning," Rhodey whispers conspiratorially, but Steve only gives him a slightly scandalised look.

"Good thing I know how to sleep on my feet," a voice comes from the side, and Steve feels mildly guilty to realise it belongs to the very man they are here for.

One Rudolf Steiner. The old face looks worn, but beneath it there is a spark of will, sharp and stubborn. One corner of his lips is curled in a half-smile that is no smile at all.

Suddenly Steve feels sorry for him, and he doesn't know why.

"I am honored to present today our esteemed guest, honorary citizen of Stuttgart, Rudolf Steiner!" Smiles, nods, shaking of hands. Photo opportunity. Steve knows these. Some things really never change. Some change too fast.

His hands shake just the slightest when he takes the medal, because these he knows too, except with more fanfare and less camera flashes. His words feel like machine oil in his mouth as he shakes Steiner's hand, spilling from his lips all practiced and smooth. Pepper said Tony will do the speech for the press. Steve refused.

Rhodey is doing the speech and Steve hates it. He's heard it a thousand times, in different words, with the same thoughtless condescension. It always sounds the same. It always sounds like a welcome to an exclusive club, when usually those handing out the medals have the most to lose by not bending their knees to the next greater power.

And that too, is something that never changes, it seems.

Some bodies are never recovered to have medals pinned to their chests, and it's a bitter taste on his tongue.

"They say you have seen it all," a voice jerks him out of his thoughts, shaky with age but still carrying a wary strength that matches the spark in those watery grey eyes.

"Seen... what?"

"The war, Captain."

Instinctively, Steve holds himself straighter, hoping he doesn't look quite as nervous as he feels. Sometimes talking to strangers is still difficult, and talking to them about the war even more so. He makes a jerky nod. "I was there."

For a moment, there is silence. It's the old man who speaks up. "I'm glad."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Birkenau. All my family."

Four words, Steve thinks. Four simple words and the tragedy of an era.

"I'm sorry."

"So few people remember it nowadays. In a decade, barely anyone. In another, no one." Steiner steps closer, peering up at him, his chin trembling slightly. "So I'm glad for you."

"What use is it, to remember when no one else does?"

"Because only those who remember can remind others." Steiner jerks a bony hand towards the star on Steve's chest, tapping it lightly. "And when we are faced with our own savagery and fall to despair, we will always need to be reminded that we can choose not to kneel."


End file.
